


Always Looking Backwards Down The Road

by The_Eldritch_IT_Gay



Series: Life of a Ghost [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (about your deepest traumas), Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Drunken Confessions, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eldritch_IT_Gay/pseuds/The_Eldritch_IT_Gay
Summary: It was late at night when he found then, sitting on the floor in the back corner of the server room. They often found some place quiet and tucked away to hide and brood, after having them on the team for a few years now, Gabe had already committed to memory their typical hiding spots. Sometime when he found them he ended up carrying them to the medbay- especially after missions, sometimes he carried their sleeping form to their room, other times he just made sure they were doing okay. This time was different.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Rewriting some of my old fic ideas so they align with Malik's current timeline (and Drabblewatch Blackwatch's timeline). Here's a short angst piece where Malik talks to Gabí about their old gang days.

It was late at night when he found then, sitting on the floor in the back corner of the server room. They often found some place quiet and tucked away to hide and brood, after having them on the team for a few years now, Gabe had already committed to memory their typical hiding spots. Sometimes when he found them he ended up carrying them to the medbay, sometimes he carried their sleeping form to their room or Mikael’s room, other times he just made sure they were doing okay. While they usually were a reliable part of intel department and goofing off, Gabe was one of the only people aside from the medics and Mikael that knew about Malik’s physical and mental health. They managed to keep it together well enough, but he couldn’t help but worry sometimes anyways. Malik usually found a place to hide when something was up- stress, their health, or when they were just overwhelmed. 

This time was different, however, as he found them sitting with a half empty bottle of alcohol in their hands and another empty bottle next to them. They looked up when they heard him approach, despite how they grinned, they could see their face was wet with tears, eyes puffy.

“Heyyy Gabí,” They slurred, the alcohol making their accent much thicker.

He eyed the bottle they had, noticing just how much of it was gone, and frowned. He knew they couldn’t get drunk easily, as a side effect of the enhancements Talon had given them, but that didn’t mean binge drinking was any less reckless. They weren’t usually much of a drinker for many reasons, including religion, which only made Gabe more concerned. 

“What are you doing, Ramos?”

“Oooooh, ‘Ramos’, so serious are we Gabí. You talk like we don’t know each other, no? Why you being so formal, hmm?”

He crouched down in front of them, face hard. Their cheeks were flushed pink, glasses skewed and eyes slightly unfocused.

“You shouldn’t be drinking.” He pointed out.

Giggling, they took another sip from the bottle.

“Why notttt, Gabí? I’m adult, I can make own choices.”

Scowling, he grabbed their bottle and sat next to them, ignoring their sad noise. After a few tries of trying to get the bottle back, they gave up. Resting their head on his shoulder they sighed, starting to hum softly. He waited to see if they were going to explain themselves, but they seemed content just leaning against him. They jerked slightly when he broke the silence.

“Why are you drinking?”

They thought for a moment- whether it was because they were trying to think of something to say, or because it was taking them longer to translate their thoughts into English, he didn’t know. If anything, it was probably a mix of both. It took them a good minute or two to finally respond.

“It’s good for forgetting, no?” He heard them repeat it a few times under their breath, normally something they were able to control.

That caught him off guard, curiosity and concern growing.

“What are you trying to forget?” He kept his voice gruff, not wanted to encourage them.

He knew that there was a whole plethora of things they had gone through that might make one resort to drinking, but they had never done something like this before. Part of him worried that something had happened recently that bothered them and managed to bother them this much. During all the years he had known them, he had never seen them in such a state, and it made him uneasy. They were quiet for a while again, and he almost thought they had fallen asleep, until they sneakily tried to grab at the bottle. Irritated, he swatted their hand away, cursing at them in Spanish.

They whined, “You’re being mean.”

“You’re being an idiot,” He muttered back.

Pouting they crossed their arms, leaning against him more. For a while they just sat, neither saying anything. After a while, he sighed and closed his eyes tiredly. He was almost starting to nod off to sleep when their voice jolted him fully awake.

“I killed someone.”

They said it so plainly, as if they were sharing their favourite color.

“You’ve killed a lot of people. So has everyone here.” He muttered, sighing and closing his eyes again.

He had had the thought that the violence of Blackwatch might upset them, knowing their religious background, but they never brought it up. Granted, their religion was something they kept private, so it wasn’t likely they’d bring it up anyways. In the back of his mind, he wondered idly if they were going to confess something about that. But they shook their head, nuzzling against him.

“No.” They yawned, “I didn’t kill her during Blackwatch.”

That shouldn’t have shocked him that much, knowing they had been with Talon before joining Blackwatch, but he painfully remembered that they had been only 17 when they joined.

“Still,” He said, keeping his voice flat, “Quite a lot of agents have a criminal record or black ops experience. Don’t think you’re so special, Malik. You don’t see everyone else drinking away their sorrows.”

They seemingly ignored him, and he wondered briefly how well they could understand English in this state.

“She was my mother. Not my birth mother, of course- the crisis took that from me. But, she took me in when nobody would. I was some Afro-Tibetan orphan living on the streets, couldn’t even walk, probably wouldn’t live long anyways. Nobody so much as looked at me, until she found me and took me in. She was the only person who didn’t think I was useless. I looked up to her so much. She was always calm and comforting. Even in the end.”

“Malik…” His voice was soft, looking down at them.

Their eyes were lidded, and he could see tears quietly streaming down their face. They were almost completely still, aside from their shaking hands, as they leaned heavily on him. As they continued speaking, their accent got progressively thicker, and words slurred together more.

“Asiya. Asiya al-Naqvi. Maybe you heard of her, dunno, she was the leader of The Wild Hunt gang. It- we weren’t malicious in intent, I don’t think. All of us were people who had been left behind, abandoned, exiled. We were the people who didn’t have a place anywhere, so we made one for ourselves and did what we had to do to survive. Survival doesn’t justify what we did, I know… But what were we supposed to do? Starve? Die alone and forgotten in some alleyway? It felt like the only choice we had was die quietly or break the law. It’s shitty, I know. My birth mother told me to be wary of survivors until you know what they did to survive… The people in the gang were nice enough, maybe just cause I was the leader’s son. And I mean, I was her son. She gave me the name Malik, let me use her last name. She helped me make braces out of scrap metal and find a crutch so I could get around. I got to work on my hacking skills, reemerge as Gsa’ gzig, prove I’m not useless. I got a bit reckless eventually, I mean I was a kid y’know, I felt like I could take on the world if I wanted. 

One of our lookouts spotted a few rival gang members lurking around one of the places we were gonna hit for loot. The gang was in a bad place, low on supplies, so we really needed this supply run. And it looked like the rival gang was compromising that run. So my crippled overconfident ass decided if it was only a few guys, I could take them out and then we could get our supplies. Easy enough right? Well. I was pretty close to the place and was taking a short cut down some alley. And I was ambushed. Shoved against the wall, broke my nose, blood was gushing down my face, and then some guy knife pressed to my throat. I was fully ready to die, I realized I had made a mistake and was ready to pay for it. 

Then, Asiya showed up. Managed to take down one or two guys before someone pulled me off the wall and pressed a gun to my head. They told her to leave now or they’d shoot me. She tried to negotiate, to no avail- only one of us was going to leave this alive, the guys made that clear. So. She told them to kill her instead and let me go. I think I was already crying at this point but I started screaming trying to tell her to run. But everyone ignored me. They let me go. And she was kicked to the ground, ripped off her prosthetic arm, tore off her hijab, and had a gun to her forehead. I was just a crumpled heap on the floor, I wanted to run but I couldn’t, I didn’t want to watch my mother die again but I didn’t want to leave her. Soon enough someone made a decision for me. ‘Hey, make the kid do it.’. And suddenly I was pulled to my feet and the gun was in my hand and they made me press it to her forehead.”

He could feel they were crying, tears dripping onto his shirt. One of their hands was gripping his forearm tightly, blunt nails digging into flesh. Sucking in a shaky breath, they continued.

“She kept telling me what to do, reminding me of the right way to hold a gun- like she taught me. She kept comforting me, ‘It’s okay Mali, you’ll be fine Mali. I know you’ll make it through. Don’t worry, shhh, remember how I taught you. Don’t cry ibn.’ She taught me well I guess, even though she had to grab my wrist to keep my hands steady and coax me to pull the trigger. You know. I was angry at her. Because she was so calm like she wasn't the one about to die. I was angry. In her last few moments alive, I felt anger towards her...”

They curled up against him, shaking slightly.

“Malik-”

“I still remember the way she looked. When the light left her eyes. The blood pooling under her. Brain matter splattered on the concrete. I had grown up watching everyone around me die, but that only made it hurt _more_. I was alone again. And it was my fault. _There was_ _so much blood-_ ”

They broke off with a cry, whole body trembling as they tried to calm themselves. 

“12,” They continued after a moment, “I was 12 when that happened. 10 years ago on the dot. Every year I try to do something so I can just forget everything for a while so nothing hurts...”

The knowledge that they had the last 5 years on this day alone probably drinking themselves into oblivion filled him with a sense of guilt. 

“You did what you had to.” He tried, arm wrapping around them.

They made a small noise and buried their face in the crook of his neck. After a while, their breathing started to regulate again as they slowly calmed down. Whether it was from their own efforts to calm themselves or the alcohol kicking in some more. He could tell they were falling asleep, so with a deep breath, he scooped them up and stood. Their tears were staining his shirt as they cried silently, one of their hands weakly clutching him as he carried them towards Mikael’s sleeping quarters. He didn’t know if Mikael would be awake, but there was no doubt he knew how to comfort and be there for Malik like he always had.

 

“ ‘s okay. Don’t worry about mi, Gabi.” They murmured, trying to smile, “I just needed a distraction, now I’ll be fine.”

He sighed, “You need to talk about it, to process it, then you can move on. Many of us have been through something traumatic, you’ll be able to move on-”

“No.” They interrupted, “You don’t move on. You just distract yourself enough. You just keep finding distractions.” They were falling asleep, and he could barely make out their next sentence. “It can’t hurt me if I repress the memories...”


End file.
